


french exit

by hart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Food Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Midsummer Night's Dream, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Warning: Loki, one scene of dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6777781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hart/pseuds/hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Tony watches with a twist of envy; the way he moves across the room with such ease and grace it looks as though he's barely trying. He's thin- thinner than most men in the room, but unmistakably strong, dancers' muscles propelling him into leaps that seem to have no respect for the laws of gravity at all. Everything to his effortlessly positioned fingertips looks flawless.'</p><p>ballet au in which a prestigious new york company put on a production of a midsummer night's dream, tony stark meets loki laufeyson, and spends the next months trying to break down his walls. loki tries not to let him. he tries.</p><p>ongoing</p>
            </blockquote>





	french exit

**Author's Note:**

> i'm terrible at summaries i'm sorry. this will be fairly long, slow burn. or at least a medium burn. as always, overuse of commas and semicolons. title from song of the same name by the antlers.

The first thing Tony notices about him are the tattoos. A pair of hands on his left arm, and two strange symbols his ribs.

Clint elbows Tony out of his staring.

"That's Thor's brother," he hisses. Tony's eyes widen. Thor; his bulky, tanned, blonde friend, was just about as far from looking related to the new guy as anyone could be. 

"You're kidding, right?" Tony whispers back, lacing up his shoes. 

"Loki. He's adopted," Clint says, stretching out one of his legs. "He's been in Russia for, like, ten years."

"Dancing?" Tony raises an eyebrow. The new guy- Loki- doesn't look any older than any of the dancers around him. If anything he looks a couple years younger than some. Ten years in a different country to your family seems like an isolated way to become an adult. 

Clint nods.

"Thor says he's really good."

"Thor would. He doesn't know his left foot from his right."

Clint laughs, finishing his stretches. Tony watches Loki pull his long hair into a bun, and follows Clint to the barre. 

 

-

 

Okay, so new guy is good. Tony watches with a twist of envy; the way he moves across the room with such ease and grace it looks as though he's barely trying. He's thin- thinner than most men in the room, but unmistakably strong; dancers' muscles propelling him into leaps that seem to have no respect for the laws of gravity at all. Everything to his effortlessly positioned fingertips looks flawless. Whenever he's not moving he seems to be eyeing up the rest of the class with cool, green eyes that almost look calculating. Tony doesn't think he looks too worried about his competition. 

By the time their class is over strands of black hair are falling into his eyes, a sheen of sweat covering his pale skin as he stretches out sat against the mirrored wall, chest flush against his legs and fingers on his toes. 

He tugs a dark green sweater over his head and exchanges his delicate ballet slippers for a pair of battered Doc Martens, bringing his dance bag over his shoulder and sticking a cigarette between his lips. Stepping out into the icy New York winter is always particularly difficult after an hour of blood warming exertion; muscles buzzing in leggings and sweatpants and hot breath hitting cold air in clouds. Tony watches as Loki asks Natasha something he doesn't understand, and Natasha beams as she passes him a lighter.

"Ten years in Russia pays off then?" she smiles, lighting her own cigarette after. 

"It's good to have someone to stop me getting rusty," Loki says. He has the same Norwegian tinge in his accent that Thor once had. 

"Have you met Bucky?" Natasha asks, grabbing Barnes by the elbow as he nearly walks past them both. He tugs out his earphones.

"What?"

Natasha points to Loki with her cigarette.

"This is Loki. He speaks Russian."

Bucky grins and shakes Loki's hand, and the three of them descend into a conversation completely unintelligible to Tony's ears. He doesn't know why he feels jealous.

"Don't take it too hard," Clint pats him on the back. "I've heard he also speaks _dickhead_. You two should get along just fine."

Tony stops staring for maybe the first time in the last hour to kick Clint in the back of the shin.

 

-

 

That night Tony, Clint, Bucky, Steve, and Thor are crammed into a booth at The Shield Bar, and Loki seems to be the only subject up for discussion. 

"I like him," Bucky says, and Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders possessively. 

"Only because he talks your language," he grumbles. Bucky laughs and kisses his boyfriend on the cheek.

"Don't be jealous, Stevie," he teases. "And Russian's not _my language_. Tasha never lets me forget that. It's just nice to have practice that isn't her; asking to have my fags." 

Steve relaxes visibly and presses his lips gently to Bucky's neck. Tony thinks it's almost sickening how a couple going three years strong still act like they're lovesick teenagers, but everyone knows Steve is always going to be a little bit scared of losing his boyfriend again. Joined at the hip since they were boys, Steve's whole world was crushed when Bucky's parents passed and he was sent to Russia to stay with his estranged extended family. No one but Steve knew exactly how they treated Bucky, but when he finally returned to the US he was a very different person. The year that followed was long and difficult for everyone involved. 

"He speaks several languages," Thor says, taking a huge swig of his stein. "He's always been extremely intelligent, perhaps too much for his own good."

"Apparently one of those languages is 'dickhead'," Tony pipes up, and Thor laughs his full-bodied laugh that always seems to light up the atmosphere around him. 

"Yes, he has always been a bit abrasive, I suppose," Thor agrees. "He has fierce wit and a sharp tongue. But he rarely means to be as harsh as he can come across. He was always angry when he was younger. Especially with our father. But when he found dance, he found his outlet, I guess."

"Why did he go to Russia? Why not dance in Norway, or come to New York with you?" Tony can't help but ask. Thor looks a little sad.

"He always told me the best ballet was in Russia, but he left Norway right after he discovered he was adopted. I think he was trying to put the space between himself and his family that he had always felt. I haven't had much contact with him over the last years. That's, uh- that's partially why I asked Fury to offer him a job here. He can get trapped in his own head often. I worry- he says he doesn't need family but I think he does more than he knows," Thor falls quiet. He takes a sip of his drink, wary that he may have said too much. 

There's a beat of awkward silence, and Tony realises that Thor hasn't spoken about Loki beyond a mention before. That maybe there's a wound there that hasn't quite healed. 

He feels bad for picking at it, so he buys the next round.

 

-

 

"Laufeyson, you're gonna have to cover up those prison tats for the promotional show."

Fury strides into the room, slamming down a handful of flyers on top of the piano. His one eye narrows, gesturing at Loki's tattoos as Loki pulls a loose work out shirt down over his ribs. Loki frowns.

"I'm in the promotional show? I've been here two weeks."

"You're one of our best," Fury says, and a couple of the girls glare in jealousy. "I want you, Romanoff, Barnes, and Foster opening. Which means you can't look like some kind of jacked up punk hipster."

Loki nods, biting back a grin. The promotional show is a small production, but a big deal. The new season rolls around soon, and Fury likes to put on a display of talent for critics and fanatics- all proceeds going to charity, of course. Create a bit of buzz for the company before they announce their main show. 

Tony decides to perch next to Loki on the barre. 

"You know, the bad boy persona doesn't normally get you into ballet academies. Art, perhaps. Acting maybe."

" _Acting_?" Loki mocks wounded, looking at Tony with exaggerated hurt in his eyes as he ties up his hair.

"Yeah, maybe get a role as Hep C patient in House. What was the look- punk hipster bitch?" 

"Jacked up punk hipster, I think," Loki corrects. "My look's never been a problem with casting directors, anyway."

Tony snorts.

"You are exactly what Thor says you are," he says, and Loki turns sharply.

"What does that mean?"

Tony shrugs as he finishes stretching.

"He says your talent makes you arrogant."

Loki raises an eyebrow.

"He does, does he?" he eyes Tony haughtily, and Tony has to try very hard not to be intimidated. Or turned on. "And you agree, Stark?" 

"I think if I tried to get cast with permanent war paint, or partied as hard as you, I'd get told to go to work on poles at Studio 54. There's something about you-" Tony stops himself before his mouth runs away. Loki's smirking.

"Something about me?" he challenges. Tony clenches his jaw and moves over to the floor where Fury is rounding the group up. He pointedly ignores Loki for the rest of the class.

He pointedly ignores the voice in the back of his head; _you're in so much trouble, Stark._

**Author's Note:**

> this is all sergei polunin's fault. all of it.


End file.
